


Acceptable Omens

by weisswald



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: M/M, Mention of other Amis - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:29:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26781418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weisswald/pseuds/weisswald
Summary: “Why, angel,” Aire responded, giving Enjolras a sidelong glance, “are you policing what I can and cannot do? I am nothing but a law-abiding kin of the Heavenfolk.”Enjolras rolled his eyes and stated a well-worn argument all over again, “Yes, and that is why it is important for you to open your eyes and see the atro-- "Or, Good Omens made too strong an impression and I have been itching to see these two in the CrowleyxAziraphale set-up. So, here is a rushed little piece of self indulgence.
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 21





	Acceptable Omens

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Notes at the end for some important info!

Aire cackled at the scene in front of him. That duck was flailing about but the piece of paper that he had floated on the duck’s back would not budge. This was delightful. Simple joys and all that.  
However, it was short lived as the piece of paper flew right off the duck’s back and into Aire’s face. The resulting frown also turned into a defeated sigh, when an angelic voice - and quite literally angelic too - murmured from behind him, “Riveting entertainment, Aire.”

“Why must you ruin my joy, angel?”  
Aire turned around to find Enjolras, in a black suit standing almost directly behind him. Beautiful and stern, like always. Making Aire’s heart beat just a little faster, like always. 

Enjolras scoffed at the nickname, “Don’t call me that. What are you doing here playing with ducks?”

“Why, _angel_ ,” Aire responded, giving Enjolras a sidelong glance, “are you policing what I can and cannot do? I am nothing but a law-abiding kin of the Heavenfolk.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes and stated a well-worn argument all over again, “Yes, and that is why it is important for you to open your eyes and see the atro-- 

“Stop. Stop, Ange, stop. I know, I know, open my eyes, see the injustice, do things about said injustice and _fall_.” Aire finished with exaggerated hand gestures and turned fully to face Enjolras’ side profile. “What are you doing here? You don’t harass me usually - that’s my job.”

Enjolras looked at him, eyes trained on Aire, for the first time since this exchange had begun, “Grantaire.”

And that was telling, wasn’t it. He rarely used Aire’s full name and when he did, it either meant a reprimand because Aire had done something to endanger himself or meant Important and Serious Business, the kind that Aire took care to shake off his list of responsibilities diligently. Aire was not particularly keen on either of these outcomes. 

“There is a war coming.”

They both stared at each other for moments before Grantaire slowly responded, ”Why do you know that?” 

He was serious now. And he wanted to know why Enjolras thought this was A. a certainty, judging by his tone and B. something for which Grantaire should be warned. 

“I know this because I plan to initiate some parts of it myself, “ Enjolras’ eyes hardened, “and it would seem like you are already aware.”

“I am aware. Everyone is aware that Heaven will wage war against dissenters and worse, _fallen_ dissenters. This is not something that you alone can fight and Enjolras - please, please don’t martyr yourself on this hill. It is not a war, it is a tragedy that is about to take place.”

Imploring, begging and outright prostrating himself - Grantaire would do anything to keep the only man he had ever valued away from the wrath of Heaven. Even though convincing Enjolras - if his setting mouth, thinning lips and hardening eyes were anything to go by - would be an uphill battle. In the rain. With no weapons.

Enjolras raised his chin.

Oh no. 

“I will do what is necessary. I will stand with the rights of humanity. The Earth is not a plaything for those with more agency and I will not see it destroyed.”  
It was this very defiance that had resulted in his _fall_ and it was going to be his doom as well. This stubborn, intelligent, beautiful and stupidly self-sacrificing lamb.

Grantaire sighed.

“Let’s go to the Bookshop and we can chat there?”

Enjolras nodded and they walked on in silence.

***

Enjolras had always liked Grantaire’s Bookshop. It was old mahogany furnished and chock full of books from everywhere and anywhere on the planet. Undoubtedly, Jehan had a hand in its collection but all their friends seemed to have a mark on the shop and Grantaire for all his show of uncaring, treasured the shop to bits. 

Enjolras himself lived a very minimalistic and angry existence. He had a flat. Food in it because, Combeferre. And one plant that refused to die because Jehan Prouvaire had a hand in everything in all their lives. It helped that the plant was enchanted by Feuilly - it had a two-pronged effect - the plant did not die and Enjolras attempted to water it every now and then because he could not bear to disappoint Feuilly. Enjolras liked Grantaire’s place. Enjolras would spend a lot more of his time in Grantaire’s space, if Aire would only let him make a few more advances. They could be good together - great, even. Passion to passion, heart to heart and all wrapped up in Enjolras’ inability to do anything but gravitate to Aire and Aire’s ability to love anything into happiness. 

Anyway. That would never happen because Grantaire would never consent to consort with the fallen. Not when it came to intimacy. Grantaire was an open person and being with Enjolras would mean that he would have to be clandestine and that was -- 

Besides, they fought a lot and Aire loved everyone equally. He would not be interested.  
Enjolras stared longingly at Grantaire’s back as he put together some tea and cakes for them.

“Have you done something with the kitchenette? It looks a bit different.” Enjolras forced out, returning to the present and focusing on the promise of tea. There was something domestic and lovely about Grantaire making them both tea in his small kitchen space. Something comfortable in the huddle of his shoulders and the silky ease of his actions. Something warm in the welcome of Enjolras to this haven. 

“Not really. No.”  
“Would you like cookies? I baked them this morning before the ducks.” Grantaire responded and turned to find Enjolras. He had a habit of lovingly running his long, delectable fingers along the spines of every book in the history section. Particularly the ones on revolts and revolutions. 

As he turned, he realised that Enjolras had sneaked up to him. Well. Walked up perhaps but Grantaire was steadfastly ignoring his giddy heart at having Enjolras around like always, in the hopes of not driving Enjolras away. He seemed to be good at that. And boy did Grantaire hate being good at anything but apathy. 

Enjolras stared at him, “Yes.”  
Grantaire looked up and fell into his eyes. He was so close. So tangible. And between the cookies and the park and the announcement of war, Grantaire just wanted. Or maybe it was the way Enjolras was looking at him. Grantaire wanted that too.  
With his mouth slightly parted he continued to stare at his golden angel, mind inconveniently going blank. It might have been a second or a year, when Enjolras softly added, “...to the cookies.”

And that broke the spell.  
“Yes,” Grantaire turned swiftly around, knocking his thighs into the table and righting himself as he scurried away to the cookie jar. Cookies. Right. That is what was happening here. Obviously.  
Cookies acquired, Grantaire returned to the table where Enjolras was still standing where he had been twelve seconds ago. Grantaire offered him the cookie jar. 

Enjolras was very carefully keeping his mind devoid of any thoughts but one. Why had Grantaire looked at him like that? Had he looked at him like that in the past? Had Enjolras missed it? Had there been other _expressions_? Had..had..had...what. 

Why was it important now? Why was he wanting to reach out to this cynical, whimsical angel now?

“What?” He croaked.

“What?” Grantaire croaked right back. 

“You looked at me. Like. Like that. And I want to talk about it because why did you look at me. Like. Like that.” Oh this was terrible. Enjolras knew this was terrible but he wanted answers. Perhaps it was the cosy bookshop. Perhaps the impending war, perhaps...perhaps he just wanted to be insane and brave. 

Perhaps Grantaire wanted the same too, as he responded, in the smallest of voices, with a, “I always look at you that way.”

Oh Grantaire should kick himself. Maybe that will help him be unconscious and not run his mouth just because this disaster of an angel that he had been in love with since the beginning of time was being earnest. What the fuck. Why did he say that.

Enjolras stepped forward engulfing the space between them and plucking the cookie jar out of Grantaire’s hands to place it on the table. He stopped and hesitated for a fraction of a second before leaning in and gently brushing his lips against Grantaire’s.

His angel was so daring, thought Grantaire hazily as he chased after Enjolras’ retreating lips. So, so daing. So, so intoxicating. And this. This was so, so dreamy. So, so charming. So, so out of character that if this turned out to be nothing but a fever dream, then Grantaire might as well savour it. Thus he locked his lips with Enjolras’.

***

Grantaire pulled his head back with the handful of hair he had managed to grasp in one hand as his other pressed Enjolras ever closer to his body. Their lips seemed to not part for breath and yet the needy little moans along with the occasional gasps that escaped Enjolras were conversation enough. He had waited for this moment for an eternity. This was an all-consuming dream.

Eventually, the need to breathe forced them apart and as soon as his eyes focused, he found Enjolras, pupils dilated, lips bitten and glistening, out of breath, and staring at Grantaire with something akin to horror. 

Oh. 

Grantaire paused and then forced himself to disengage. It was damn near impossible to try to disengage when he was at half-mast and all he wanted to do was pluck Enjolras out of those clothes and look at him all night. 

Bowing his head, willing his heartbeat back to a sensible rate, he pulled his arms back and Enjolras came with them. Grantaire looked up and Enjolras surged forward to seal their lips again. Oh, so this was happening after all. 

The slow trickle of clothes leaving their bodies and the advancement to the bedroom passed almost innocently and before long, Grantaire was staring at Enjolras, flat against his bed, alabaster skin begging to be touched and breaths heaving in his chest. 

“Aire…”

“Hey.” Enjolras’ face was just as captivating as the rest of him. 

“Touch me.” Enjolras sighed softly, “Please.”

It is a wonder that Enjolras was the one to _fall_ when Grantaire was such a weak willed man. He splayed his hands on Enjolras’ chest and softly caressed him, bending down to decorate his neck with soft bite marks. Enjolras arched his back at this, trapping Grantaire in his own arms in turn. 

“Aire….yes.” 

And that is all the permission Grantaire needed. 

***

It was dawn when Aire opened his eyes. The bed was a mess.  
Blankets strewn everywhere and luckily some on top of him to protect against the typical morning chill, dark shadows adorning his walls and a sleeping angel at his side. Tucked into his side, content and calm. _Enjolras_. 

Enjolras’ pleasant visage did nothing to steady the erratic beating of Aire’s heart when he realised that he had slept with the man he had loved for literal centuries. And along with that realisation came the trepidation, _did he regret sleeping with Aire?_ Enjolras was stirring now, he would soon find out whether there was regret or not. 

For being a fallen angel, Enjolras was too adorable. _Fallen_ angels were mythicised as vicious and evil, but here was a man frowning because he was very much not a morning person and proceeding to growl and grumble, because he really was not a morning person. He opened his eyes and spotted Aire immediately - freezing first and then slowly smiling at him. Enjolras snuggled closer to Aire, hiding his face in his neck, breathing Aire in and nuzzling -- _nuzzling_ , really evil dark angel thing? -- and settling in the cuddle comfortably. 

“Is this alright?” Enjolras ventured.  
Aire could only breathe out a raspy ‘yes’ before turning to properly hug Enjolras. And in a moment of sudden daring or madness, he followed it up with, “Enjolras, I love you.”

The deafening silence of his own mind and Enjolras’ lack of immediate response was only deserved, Aire figured when he could breathe again. Neither of them moved until Enjolras exhaled loudly in Aire’s neck, a watery response in tow, “I wanted to say it first but I was so scared that you would not believe me.” 

He looked up now, while Aire stared at him in disbelief. Ah yes, so that was what Enjolras was talking about. Nevermind. His hand slowly came up to cup Enjolras’ face, at which he received a kiss on his palm and the most earnest and sincere confession he could have hoped for, “Grantaire, I am in love with you. War or not, I will always belong to you, with you - if you accept me.”

Grantaire pulled him in for a kiss and even after spending an entire eternity learning each other inside out, spending an entire night tracing every inch of the others body, this one kiss felt like the joining of souls. 

_-fin-_

**Author's Note:**

> Hello Gentle Reader,  
> I see that you have found yourself at this footnote! Why, welcome!  
> I am happy to share my love of ExR with you - aren't these two just heart-wrenchingly lovely!!! I have been trying for a year to get back into writing and here I am after so long!
> 
> For more, please see: https://www.ko-fi.com/post/Acceptable-Omens-H2H62H9W6  
> (I will also be open to commissions soon! Feel free to message me on ko-fi.)
> 
> 'Til then, adieu!


End file.
